The New Normal

by Brogan, Tracy

  “You’re right. I didn’t really mean it. I just figured, you know? What the hell? Two consenting adults on New Year’s Eve? But that’s okay. I get it.”

  But she didn’t get it. Not at all. He was doing the right thing here, so why did he feel like such a shithead for turning her down?

  “No, you don’t get it, Carli. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that—” He was going to say it was just that she wasn’t thinking clearly because of the alcohol, but drunk people rarely realize that they’re drunk, and he doubted his explanation would erase the embarrassment on her face. She interrupted him by holding up her hand.

  “Hey, no means no, you know? It’s okay. Maybe you should go party with yellow Volkswagen girl. Do you want another drink? I think I’m going to get another drink.”

  The Volkswagen comment surprised him, and Carli moved away before he could stop her, but he decided right then and there that this was not how their night was going to end. He followed a few paces behind and caught hold of her wrist, stopping her as she entered the dining room. She looked back, her frown turning to uncertainty as he took the glass from her unresisting hand and set it on the table. Fortunately, there was no one there to see them.

  “Follow me,” he said quietly, tugging her along down the hall as if he knew what he was doing. As if his heart weren’t hammering in his chest and all the blood in his body weren’t crackling through his veins like electrical currents.

  The layout of this house was nearly the same as his, and if he was lucky, then there should be a laundry room through the second door on the left. He twisted the knob, and no, not a laundry room. More like an office, but it was empty, so he pulled her in behind him and shut the door. She fell against it and looked up at him. A night-light in the corner gave the room a bluish glow, and her eyes were dark and mysterious, her lips lush and begging for a kiss.

  He cupped her jaw in his hands, and she sighed, putting her hands on his waist.

  “God, you’re pretty,” he said. Then he kissed her, and his world fell away.

  Carli was pretty sure it wasn’t midnight, pretty sure there’d been no countdown, and pretty sure she was in Renee’s craft room right now. But what she knew for certain was that she was, at this very minute, being wonderfully and thoroughly kissed by Ben in a way that made her knees turn to water and her heart turn to fire. His hair was as soft as she’d imagined, but everything else about him was firm, from the muscles under his shirt to the determined way he wrapped his arms around her body. She melted against him as his mouth captured hers, and she tried to remember what they’d just been talking about. Not that it really mattered. All that mattered was the feel of him, the heat and the urgency. She wanted more. Lots more.

  Fuck Steve and his young, skinny bride and their surprise wedding. Fuck him and his fancy, low-maintenance condo and his monochrome décor and his dog-free life. Carli had everything she needed right here. She had Ben. She reached down between them, rubbing her hand against his zipper, and he groaned deep in his throat. Her senses reeled, because Renee had been right. Ben Chase had some big tricks in those pants of his. And Carli wanted to know more. With her other hand, she reached down and tugged at the waistband of his jeans, trying to undo the button, but he stopped kissing her and looked down at her face.

  “Not here,” he whispered, his voice raspy and seductive.

  “Yes, here.”

  “Seriously?”

  Why was he arguing with her?

  She pulled at the tab of his zipper, and Ben gave up another sexy growl of surprise.

  “Yes. Seriously,” she said. “Right here. Right now.”

  Chapter 30

  Carli had long believed that waking up with a hangover was the worst way to greet a new year. Now she realized there was something even worse. Waking up covered in shame. And embarrassment. Oh, holy hell, the embarrassment! She’d thrown herself at Ben like some desperate, horny sorority girl at her first kegger. He hadn’t even wanted to at first. She’d had to convince him. Her stomach roiled, and her head throbbed. She should never, ever drink tequila. She knew that, but she’d drunk it anyway. Her mouth tasted so bad she wanted to shower in Listerine. Had she eaten the worm from the tequila? She must have. And all because Steve went to Aruba and got married.

  Now it was sometime in the morning, judging by the wintry light coming in the window of her room, and she was bent like a pretzel, perched on the farthest edge of her bed, immobilized by the twisted sheets and something even worse. Her arm was numb, and she couldn’t straighten out her legs because something, or someone, was pressed up against her and lying almost diagonally across the bed. It was time to pray to whatever patron saint was in charge of regrettable actions that the immovable object was Gus and not Ben. Of course, she wasn’t Catholic, so her prayers might not make it to the right saint, but it was worth a shot because she desperately needed Ben to be gone. She simply couldn’t face him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  She tried in vain to nudge the obstacle with her foot, hoping she might hear the jangle of Gus’s dog tags, but no. Against all instincts of self-preservation, she slowly opened one eye, and a fresh wave of humiliation flooded over her. Because her worst fears were confirmed. Ben Chase was in bed next to her, and Gus was sprawled on the other side of the bed, his long doggie legs stretched out to their full length, all but pushing Ben in her direction. That damn dog was seriously going to have to start sleeping in his crate.

  How had this happened? What on earth had she done? Chunks of the night were missing from her memory. There’d been the news of Steve’s elopement, of course, and then some drinks. And a few more drinks. There’d been shots of peppermint schnapps and shots of Fireball whisky, all of which were currently churning in her gut. She remembered seeing Ben arrive, and then . . . Her skin heated up as visions cascaded through her mind. She remembered inviting him to her place, running her hands through his hair and tugging at his clothes in—oh God!—in Renee’s craft room. Holy hell. If Renee ever found out that Carli and Ben had fooled around in her beloved craft room, it would be the end of their friendship. But had they? That part was foggy in her mind. There’d been kissing, after she’d all but begged him, and she had a vague memory of him pressing her against a wall, and she may have stuck her hand down his pants . . . but she might have just imagined that part, too, because she distinctly recalled him telling her no.

  That was humiliating. Throwing herself at a man only to have him turn her down. But . . . if he’d turned her down, why was he next to her in the bed? And why was she wearing her sexy-time nightgown? The one she used to wear when she still cared if Steve noticed her? The one that had been jammed into the back corner of a drawer for the past ten years? Her heart started skipping every other beat as anxiety took hold. She remembered being in the cold and Ben walking beside her, back to her house. He’d kissed her in the doorway of her room. She remembered that clearly, because he’d said something about the dog being in the bed. And then . . . nothing. She couldn’t remember what happened after that. All she knew for sure was that Ben was lying next to her. And she needed him to leave. He had to get out of her house and back to his own without Lynette from across the street spotting him. And she needed to call Mia and Tess and see how they were doing this morning because they’d started off their new year with a stepmother.

  First things first. She needed to wake up Ben and used the only means available.

  “Hey,” she said softly, gently tapping him with her elbow. He was flat on his back and didn’t stir. If she hadn’t been so consumed with confusion and regret, she might have taken a moment to appreciate the muscles of his chest. She had a vague memory of running her hands over them at some point, and she’d liked it. Her bare skin flushed, and she shoved the thoughts away.

  “Hey,” she said more loudly, not-so-gently jabbing him with that same elbow. That time it worked. His eyes opened, and he scrubbed a hand across his face as Gus lifted his head.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice ra
spy, his lips tilting into an awkward smile.

  “Hi,” she said, avoiding his eyes and pulling at the sheets as if that would miraculously make her less vulnerable.

  “Um . . . happy New Year,” he said, the awkward smile turning into a full-on grin. She did not have time for that. Not right now.

  “Sure. Um, listen, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

  “Why? I happen to know you have zero plans today.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you told me, along with a lot of other stuff. You’re a very chatty drunk.”

  “Oh God. Could you just please go home?”

  He rolled over to his side, but at least the dog moved, too, so Carli could straighten her legs. They began to prickle all over as the blood started to circulate once more, but the discomfort in her limbs was nothing compared to the discomfort in her chest.

  “Now you want me to go home?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “You sure didn’t want me to go home last night.” He was obviously teasing her, but she was in no mood for it. Once the booze cleared her system, she’d certainly remember all the grisly, gory details from last night, and that suited her just fine. She didn’t need him taunting her.

  “Well . . . last night was last night and now is now, and right now I need you to leave.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly, “but I’m not sure if I can find my pants. I think you threw them somewhere over there.” He gestured to the corner of the room, and her cheeks burned.

  There was no part of her brain that remembered that. She didn’t remember either of them getting undressed, or what happened after that. Just her luck. Carli may have gotten laid for the first time in over a year, and she couldn’t even remember it.

  “Gus,” he said, pushing at the dog. “Get up, lazy hound.”

  The dog moved in slow motion, relocating to the end of the bed and curling up into a ball with a big, doggie sigh, as if they were really interrupting his twenty-two hours of sleep. Ben rose from the bed, and she felt a molecule of relief that he was wearing underwear. The stretchy knit kind that did wonders for his ass. He walked a few feet from the bed and picked up his pants before turning to face her. His hair was messy, making him look more like Ethan than ever, but the stubble on his face was all Ben. Mature, sexy, attractive. No wonder she’d thrown herself at him.

  He put one leg into his jeans and said, “So about last night—” But his words were cut off by a rattling sound, and Carli’s life flashed before her eyes in the span of a split second before her bedroom door swung open . . . and there stood Mia and Tess.

  “Mom?” Mia exclaimed, eyes going wide.

  “Mr. Chase?” Tess gasped, eyes going even wider before she clapped a hand over them and squeaked in dismay.

  The moment hung suspended as Carli looked to Mia, to Tess, to Ben, and then back to Mia. Her older daughter’s expression turned from shock to a scowl before she spun around on her heel and shouted, “Jesus H. Christ! What the fuck is wrong with all the grown-ups these days?”

  Chapter 31

  He hadn’t meant to take it that far. Ben had thought he could just kiss her in that room at the party and that would be that. Maybe they’d go back to her place for a bit more kissing, because she was in no frame of mind to be making any sort of decisions, but then Carli had kissed him back and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. And then she’d wrapped her leg around his and unzipped his pants, and he’d been lost. And now, just what he feared would happen had happened. They’d landed in bed and now she regretted it.

  Of course, they hadn’t actually done anything.

  She’d wanted to. That much was crystal clear, and he should receive some kind of medal of valor or something for being able to resist, because he’d wanted her, too. Hot damn, he’d wanted her, but she was drunk and he wasn’t, and he also wasn’t willing to ruin his long-term chance with her by taking advantage of the situation.

  After kissing at Renee’s, they’d left the room only to discover that everyone else had already gone to the next house, so his honorable intention was to walk her home and leave her at her front doorstep. Or maybe tuck her into bed just to make sure she got there, but Gus had needed to go out to pee. So he took her dog for a walk, and by the time he got back, she was wearing a flimsy nightgown and invited him to stay.

  Seriously, the biggest medal of honor. That’s what he deserved. And some kind of honorary priesthood, because the nightgown was sheer and silky and merely seeing her in it had just about pushed him over the edge. But she was still tilting back and forth and talking about Steve and his wedding and her kids and her impending empty nest. So even if her body was saying Come and get it, her words were every sort of buzzkill. She wasn’t really looking for sex. She was looking for comfort, and as much as he was willing to accommodate her in that department, if they’d had sex, she’d have been mad at him this morning.

  Then again, she was mad at him anyway. When all they’d done was talk. Of course, getting caught by her kids had been the worst luck imaginable. She’d jumped from the bed, put on the thickest, most grannyesque robe he’d ever seen, and started throwing his clothes at him. He’d walked home barefoot through the snow, wearing nothing but his jeans and his jacket and carrying the rest. Then he’d walked in his front door only to discover Ethan waiting. Apparently, it had taken Mia all of thirty seconds to text him.

  “I’m guessing you have some questions,” Ben said to his son as he dried his ice-cold feet on a dish towel before pulling on his sweater.

  “A couple,” Ethan said dryly. “Because it seems to me you may have been drinking irresponsibly with Mrs. Lancaster last night. I’ve half a mind to ground you.”

  Ben cast a glance at his son, who had the shittiest of shit-eating grins on his face. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Ethan chuckled. “What do you want me to say, Dad? Mom’s been hitting it with Doug for months now. I’m glad you’re finally getting even.”

  Ben tossed the towel toward the laundry room. “What? No. No. That’s not what this is, Ethan. God, I need a cup of coffee.” He walked over to the counter to fire up his espresso maker, and Ethan followed, padding behind him in slippers and a robe over his flannel pajama pants.

  “So what is it then?” Ethan asked, pulling some orange juice from the fridge and drinking it straight from the carton.

  “Hey. Hey, use a cup, dude. Germs, remember?”

  “Yeah, speaking of germs. Did you use a condom?”

  Ben turned and stared at him. He could hardly take the moral high ground at the moment, having just done the walk of shame across his own front yard.

  “Dude,” he said again. “This situation is not exactly what it looks like, so I’m going to need you to go easy on me this morning, okay? I’m not really up for the snarky commentary.”

  “Fair enough.” Ethan grabbed a glass from the cupboard and sat down at the table with the jug of orange juice. “But . . . can you at least explain how the heck you ended up in bed with Mrs. Lancaster?”

  Ben added coffee and water to the coffee maker and pushed the necessary buttons before turning back to Ethan. “Look, I won’t deny I was in bed with Carli, but I wasn’t in bed with her, if you know what I mean.”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Nothing happened,” Ben said decisively. Not because it was any of Ethan’s business, but because Carli deserved some defense of her honor, such as it was. “Here’s what you need to know,” Ben continued. “I like Carli. I like her a lot. She got a little tipsy last night, and I stayed with her, but I kept my hands to myself, okay? And this has nothing to do with anything that’s happened with me and your mom, other than the fact that we’re no longer together. She’s moved on with her life, and so now, I want to move on with mine.”

  “And is that going to include Mrs. Lancaster?”

  Ben sat down heavily on one of the kitchen
chairs. “Honestly? I don’t know. I hope so, but . . . this morning was kind of rough. She seemed pretty bummed that Tess and Mia walked in on us, so I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”

  “But them walking in wasn’t your fault.”

  Ben sighed and leaned his elbows on the table. “Bit of advice about women, son. It doesn’t need to be your fault for them to be really pissed at you. Sometimes they get mad at you for stuff you had absolutely nothing to do with.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Well, so are most men, so it all balances out somehow. Plus, when the girls walked in, I may have been putting on my pants.”

  Ethan chuckled. “You didn’t have on any pants?”

  “My jeans were wet from walking the dog, so I took them off.” Ben recognized the defensive tone in his voice as well as the absurdity of this entire conversation.

  “You do realize that if I used that excuse, you’d lock me in my room, right?”

  Ben nodded. “I do, but this is my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  “Okay, so, what are you going to do about Mrs. Lancaster being mad? I mean, if you like her, how do you make her stop being mad?”

  “No idea, but I do know I need you to promise to keep all this to yourself. You can talk to Mia and Tess if you feel you need to, but don’t say anything to Addie, and don’t go telling all your friends. I need to keep this under wraps until I’ve had a chance to sit down with Carli and figure out where we’re at.”

  “Cool,” Ethan said. “Can I go back to bed now?”

  “Sure.” Ben got up and poured himself a cup of coffee, but as Ethan reached the door, he turned back and smiled.

  “Hey, Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “For what it’s worth, I think you and Mrs. Lancaster would be kind of a cool thing. She’s pretty nice, and I know Addie likes her, too.”

  “Good to know. Thanks.”

  “Sure. And happy New Year.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  Ethan shuffled off, and Ben pulled his phone from his pocket. He was beyond certain that Carli wouldn’t take his call, but hopefully she’d at least read his text.